CHAPTER VIII. ’ ‘Comment? You wish to murder me?’ ‘No, I wish to beat you,’ he retorted. " "Allow me to offer you a glass of usquebaugh, my dear," said Kneebone, turning from him, and regarding Edgeworth Bess with a stare so impertinent, that even that not over-delicate young lady summoned up a blush. So far she had the utmost difficulty in getting on to that vitally important matter. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. She taught him how to sail a proa, how to hack open a milk-coconut, how to relish bamboo sprouts. What a pity! For all her ignorance of material things—the human inventions which served the physical comforts of man—how much she knew about man himself! She had seen him bereft of all those spiritual props which permit man to walk on two feet instead of four—broken, without resilience.
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